


Dots

by catsaremyboyfriend



Series: Aisha/Jensen/Cougar Blows My Mind [2]
Category: The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3449492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsaremyboyfriend/pseuds/catsaremyboyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Full credit to Feather cause I didn’t know how much I wanted Cougar/Aisha/Jensen until I read their fics.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Purr

**Author's Note:**

> Full credit to Feather cause I didn’t know how much I wanted Cougar/Aisha/Jensen until I read their fics.

She owns them. It’s funny, cause Cougar never saw himself as someone who could be kept. Not even when he and Jensen started fucking. That wasn’t serious, at first. By the time it was he owned Jensen more than the other way round.  
Jensen’s a puppy, desperate, willing to roll over and beg if asked. One of the best things about him, and Cougar will kill to protect that. Aisha loves it, too, likes pinning Jensen on his back to take him apart.  
Cougar will hold Jensen’s head in his lap, thumbs tucked in the hollows below his ears, swallow the whimpering noises Jensen makes when he’s being fucked. Aisha will grin at him, lazy and warm like she never was with Clay, fingers wrapped around Jensen’s throat.

Sometimes she does the same thing to Cougar. Pins him on his belly and bites at his shoulders. Tugs his hair when his face is between her thighs, and he’s always surprised by how much it makes him _want_.

It starts, like most things in his life, on a mission. Well, if he’s being honest with himself, it starts when Jensen tries flirting with Aisha and gets shot down hard. Cougar’s used to Jensen being shot down, the man has no idea how to speak to a woman, but the human ears thing was new.  
After that he watches her, even though she’s fucked Clay, which is a bad idea if he’s ever heard of one. Every relationship Clay’s ever been in ended with disaster. Explosions, gunshots, ritual suicide, once. It’s fucked up. 

She’s beautiful, though, long limbed, graceful, and vicious. Jensen thinks the same, tell him as Cougar goes to his knees. “She’s so pretty, Cougs, I mean…oh my _fuck_. Give a guy a warning, would you? I mean, ah, she’s like a t-tiger… _jesus_.” Cougar likes when Jensen’s trying to talk while someone’s sucking him off. S’cute.

It gets worse at the Port, when he’s kneeling with a gun to his head, hoping there’s some sort of heaven after all. Then she’s there, silhouetted by the sun, and he hears Jensen suck in a breath, too. They’re screwed, he thinks as she leans back and fires the rocket. There’s no way they’re not falling for her now. “That’s one badass chick.” He nods along and retrieves his hat. Nobody touches the hat. 

But the mission is, officially, he thinks, where it really starts. The job should’ve just been intel. Easy in and out with a cartel that Max is connected to. Went to hell, Clay and Pooch stranded in Beirut screaming angrily over the comms. Aisha and Jensen grabbed from behind. Cougar surrounded and a gun to his head. 

He gets tossed in a cell where Jensen and Aisha are waiting, hands already tied. Jensen’s face is bruised. He always gets punched a lot when they’re captured. Doesn’t know how to shut up. Cougar’s fists clench. 

“Hey, Cougs. How’s it hangin’?” Jensen asks, wiggling to the side so he can sit between them. Aisha’s arms are goose bumped, and she’s crazy, but she’s a member of his team. So he moves a bit closer til his sleeve brushes her skin. She’ll never accept the offer of a jacket. This will have to do. Her shoulders relax, just a little, and she inches closer.  
None of them will admit to weakness, himself included, but it’s cold and the cell is damp. Somehow, they always are. “Clay and Pooch will definitely, hundred percent, be here soon,” Jensen mutters, putting a leg over Cougar’s. Cougar doesn’t say anything, lets Jensen’s voice wash over him. 

They’ve been in worse shit. He’s not particularly nervous. He falls asleep, wakes up with Jensen’s hand over his and his head on Aisha’s shoulder. His hat lies at her feet, and he’d be pissed that she took it off, but she’s watching him steadily, and there’s nothing cold in her eyes. 

He breathes out and puts his head back on her shoulder, carefully, cause she can strike like a viper, but nothing happens. Her shoulder is boney. Cougar’s slept on worse. He drops off to sleep again, the smell of her hair in his nose. That’s how they are when Clay and Pooch break the door down.  
__________________________________  
Aisha doesn’t know how it starts. They come back from the botched mission and Clay’s watching all three of them, something amused in his face. It drives her crazy, like he knows something she doesn’t. She fucked him once, he doesn’t get to lord anything over her. 

Jensen’s like an excited puppy, even though one side of his face is swollen and she had gotten so _angry_ when they started hitting him, and was scared by the anger, cause she’s seen dozens of people beat up and it’s never bothered her before. He sits close to her, leg constantly jiggling, babbling away about gorillas or something. 

“We’re not friends,” she snaps eventually, when Cougar settles on her other side, because wherever Jensen is, Cougar follows.

“Sure we are,” Jensen says easily, unperturbed, and Cougar huffs a laugh. She sneers and starts taking apart her gun, decides not to kill either of them at the moment. Clay’s a given, she’ll always want to kill Clay, and she decided ages ago to leave Pooch alone, she’s met the baby and she’s not heartless. Jensen shuffles a little closer, still talking, and she smiles down at her hands. So obvious, the both of them.

After that, Cougar watches her. He does that to everyone, but it’s different for her. Less objective. She’s not immune to his charm, no one attracted to men is immune to Cougar, she’d be lying to deny it. He’s dark, mysterious, and beautiful. When he smiles, usually at Jensen, it makes her smile without thinking. When he stares, she mostly tries to ignore him, or snaps insults til he grins and looks away. Not much bothers Cougar. 

Then there’s Jensen, and how he’s started sitting at her feet, carefully pressing against her legs. Total sub, she knows the type, and has to resist the urge to wind her fingers into his hair, pull his head back to expose his neck. She allows him to stay, doesn’t kick him in the kidneys, and sometimes puts a hand over his mouth to shut him up, his beard tickling her palm.

Cougar often lounges by her side, smelling of leather and metal, chatting quietly in Spanish if she asks, Jensen cajoling it out of him. Cougar’s voice is higher in Spanish, sweeter. It makes her soften towards him, sometimes putting a hand on his knee or bumping shoulders. She forgot how much she wanted touch until she started with them and couldn’t stop. Neither Cougar nor Jensen seem to mind.  
\----------------------------------------  
Jensen keeps telling him Aisha smells like cloves, whatever the hell those are. “Pomander, Cougar, I’ve said this before,” Jensen mutters, kneeling to tie his shoelaces. “People in England used to give them as gifts.” 

Cougar nods, cause information like that is useful, and he likes knowing things. “S’ a good smell,” he offers, tapping his fingers on the back of Jensen’s neck, the skin there warm and sweat-slick. He keeps an eye out for movement, the tell-tale shine of sunlight on the barrel of a gun.

“Of course it’s a good smell, have you ever met a woman who didn’t smell amazing?” Cougar thinks of his Tia Carla and nods. “You don’t know the right women, then.” Cougar decides not to point out that before this thing they have started, he had slept with a woman in half the countries in the world, and smiles.

Aisha does smell good, though. He catches it every time she moves past him or sits in one place for a while. It’s nice, cause the rest of them just smell like guys, really.  
\----------------------------------  
It takes her a while to realize just how fucked up Jensen is. She’s ashamed to realize that she couldn’t look past the constant chatter or the pink t-shirts. She missed it. It’s the first time she’s seen him shirtless. 

She’s seen Clay, with his bullet wounds and all that _hair_ , and Cougar goes shirtless a lot, too, solid with smooth brown skin. A sniper doesn’t get hurt a lot, he watches from a distance. Pooch is more muscular, with Jolene and the baby’s name tattooed over his heart. She’ll slit her own throat before she admits that she thinks it’s sweet.

Jensen, though, never goes shirtless. Until now, with blood leaking through his shirt from the bodyguard who slashed at him with a knife. He’s grumbling, a little drugged, maybe, but he goes easily enough when she puts him on his belly, peels the shirt from his skin. 

Cougar stands by, watching, the First Aid kit dangling from his fingers. She pauses, fingers slicked with blood. Jensen’s shoulders are broad, heavily muscled, but she already knew that. She touches one scar, a deep divot just below his ribs, and tilts her head, wondering who tortured him so badly.  
There are long, thick scars along his shoulder blades, smaller ones scattered, chunks of skin removed. It makes her fists clench, and she’s surprised by it. 

“What happened to you?” she asks aloud. Jensen’s shoulders tense, and Cougar has gone still like only he can.  
“I had a difficult childhood,” Jensen mutters, rough with pain, so she motions for Cougar to start fixing him up. She ignores Cougar’s eyes on her, knowing he’s wondering how she’ll handle this. She wonders if Jensen’s parents are dead.

She sees the fucked up part of him again when they’re captured and tortured, some asshole yelling in his face. Jensen goes blank, folds in on himself.  
She glances at Cougar, who holds her gaze, doesn’t look worried. Soon as the man leaves, Jensen’s back to himself, sits close by her and fiddles with her cuffs. She doesn’t ask, and he doesn’t explain.  
__________________________________  
Aisha touches them when she’s not thinking. Never Clay or Pooch, just him and Jensen. He’s sitting in a booth at a diner, knocking knees with Jensen, and she walks by, squeezes his shoulder. Settles next to Clay to join the conversation.  
If Jensen’s sitting by her feet, she’ll scratch at the base of his skull. Glance up, startled, when Jensen makes a pleased noise. Cougar carefully lets himself touch her. A lingering brush of fingers whenever she hands him something. His toes under her thigh when they’re sitting on a couch.  
With Jensen, of course, all bets are off. He hooks his chin over her shoulder. Puts an arm around her waist when they meet new people. She doesn’t kill him, which means she doesn’t mind. She mostly just accepts it. The first time she grabs Jensen back, and Jensen lights up, Cougar knows they’ve fallen even deeper.  
____________________________________  
She sees the part that’s…off…about Jensen for the third time when they fall over a ring of slave traffickers who deal mainly in children. It wasn’t something related to Max, but Clay has something dark in his face so she agrees without arguing. Nothing goes wrong, for once, every man taken out, Pooch waiting outside with a van. 

Aisha tosses her gun in the back, careless, and steals the front seat. It takes them a moment to realize someone’s missing. “Jensen?” she asks, turning around. Clay’s frowning, Cougar already stepping from the van. “He’s still inside? But everyone’s dead.” 

“Not enough,” Cougar says over his shoulder, and she follows without really thinking about it. Cougar doesn’t speak, naturally, as they wind through corridors, step over the bullet-ridden bodies of dead men.  
The team got the children out hours ago. They were big eyed and starving, brave enough to cling to hands. Their bruises had done something ugly to Jensen’s face.

“Is he going to be okay?” she asks, worried despite herself. She’s never had a team before, still unsure about her place, but they’re…something. Not family, but more than she’s had since she left Fadhil. They turn a corner and find Jensen, standing over the body of the guy who ran the gang.  
His computer is tossed aside, and that’s when she knows something is wrong. Jensen loves his computer. He’s shooting over and over, the man’s head a bloody pulp. “Jensen!” she calls, surprised, and he turns. 

“Did you see the scar under that Indian girls’ eye?” he says cheerily as Cougar comes up from behind, wraps a hand around Jensen’s wrist.

“Enough, amado.” She follows, takes the gun from Jensen’s hand, tucks it in the back of her waistband. Could be useful later. If she touches Jensen’s hand for a little longer than necessary, he doesn’t mention it. She looks back at the bloody men Jensen left behind, smiles, and realizes she’s in deep.

She doesn’t need anyone to rescue her. Never has. She hides razorblades in her hair and always carries a gun. She’s not weak or vulnerable. She takes care of herself. So do the rest of the Losers. Clay, though, always seems to get captured.  
Which is weird, because honestly, she would expect it to be Jensen. She assumes it’s Clay cause he’s large, obvious, and their leader. So they go on missions to rescue him, find him tied up and smiling, blood leaking from his mouth. 

“Don’t worry, boys. I’m all good,” he always says, grinning that slow, lazy grin that makes women go weak at the knees. She doesn’t mind rescuing Clay. Seeing him beat up is satisfying.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------  
They get a new guy after the Port. To replace Roque. Aisha has her own place, although she’s scary enough to fill the slot he used to take. Aisha pays for everything. Does the stuff even Cougar isn’t willing to do.  
There are times when having a pretty girl on the team could be useful. No one ever suggests using her as bait. Aisha’s liable to snap the necks of people who call her pet names anyway. She’s not a honeypot. They don’t want her to be one. That kind of thing can get ugly, fast. Also, the last time she tried it, it was with Clay, and they ended up burning down a hotel room. 

The new guy is him, Cougar thinks, if he was a white meathead. Something went wrong in Afghanistan, just like his story, only this guy took the honorable discharge that was offered. Went mercenary. He’s good with melee, strong. Maybe angry enough to replace Roque, hopefully not angry enough to become him. 

“Call me Puma,” he says, the slight hesitation making it clear that he gave the nickname to himself.

“We already have one cat on the team,” Jensen chirps, nodding over. Cougar tips his hat, being polite. The guy has an accent. Southern. Cougar’s always hated Southern accents. He grew up in the South. Got called shit like ‘wetback’ a few times too many.  
Aisha already looks bored, digging dirt from under her fingernails with a harpy. The guy bristles, face swelling red. 

“You could be Croc,” Pooch suggests hurriedly, always the peacemaker. 

Aisha rolls her eyes, muttering, “Children.” He doesn’t tell her that Jensen has suggested she be nicknamed ‘Cobra’ on several occasions. He likes his balls where they are. 

“Sure. Okay.” Problem solved, Cougar goes back to his book.

Croc doesn’t fit in. He’s slow. Stupid. Worst of all, reckless. The rest of the team can afford to take risks. They’re good and they can handle it. Croc can’t. He drinks on the job, ignores any effort to speak with him, which is shit.  
They’re a team. They need to communicate. It’s how life works. Croc thinks he’s an action hero, going in guns blazing. Cougar watches, and waits for him to get hurt.

Which he does on the first, easy mission they go on. Leaves his post to take on ten guys. Almost gets killed. Clay has to abort the mission, run in after him. Gets injured. Aisha has a nasty gash along her cheek.  
Cougar’s digging a bullet out of Clay’s shoulder when Croc swaggers in. That’s another thing. Too many C names on one team. Doesn’t work. Pooch coughs loudly. They all go tense. Jensen’s leg starts jiggling. Means he’s nervous. Clay stares Croc down. He fucked up, they all know it.

“You see me out there? I was silent but deadly.” 

“Like a fart,” Jensen quips, tone on the wrong side of mocking. 

“The fuck you say, faggot?” 

“You heard me,” Jensen mutters, sullen. He gets like that when men yell at him. Cougar tries not to think why. Croc’s punch is solid, the crunch of Jensen’s nose being broken.  
Cougar goes for his gun, but Aisha’s faster. Slips up behind Croc, puts a knife to his femoral. Clay doesn’t bother stopping her. Maybe cause he’s on painkillers, maybe cause Croc deserves it. They weren’t gonna keep him, anyway. 

“You will say sorry, or I will beat you down like a dog,” she says softly. She gets a weird accent when she’s pissed, almost Russian. He doesn’t know, she goes through accents like clothes.

“Fuck you, bitch,” he snarls, and she hitches the knife higher, to just below Croc’s balls. Even Cougar winces. Aisha’s vicious, she’ll castrate this guy right in front of them. He’s a little turned on. 

“Say sorry,” she barks, so he stutters out a weak apology that Jensen accepts with a laugh. 

“You’re fucking psycho,” Croc spits when she pushes him away. They all grin. Aisha’s crazy, it’s not news. 

“Better than stupid,” she retorts, derisive.

“You’re off the team,” Clay slurs, amused. 

“Fuck you guys, anyway.” Croc storms out. They’re in Chicago right now, he’ll be fine. They’ll leave his gear behind. It’s polite.

Cougar helps Jensen set his nose back into place. It’s over quick. Jensen’s had worse. The smell of his blood has become familiar, the slick of his sweat under Cougar’s fingertips. Jensen’s sloppy when he’s hurt. Bleeds everywhere. Gets it on Cougar’s shirts. He doesn’t mind. 

“She lubs me,” Jensen sniffs. Cougar offers him a tissue to wipe away the snot and blood. “M’special’,” Jensen says, handing it back.

Cougar grimaces. “Not your mami,” he points out, not really annoyed.

“Mom woulb be doin’ de breaking.” Cougar squeezes his shoulder. They get past hard shit through jokes. It’s fine. 

“Be careful.” 

“Yeb, yeb. No more stupib jokes.”

“Not possible for you.” Jensen smiles and lightly punches his arm.  
______________________________________  
When Jensen’s headache has been medicated away and he can talk normally, he finds Aisha. She’s hunched over one of his iPads, eyes crinkling at the corners. Aisha smiling is rare enough that he stops still. 

“Uh…everything good?” Her head snaps up. He never surprises Aisha, this is _awesome_. “I wanted to say thanks,” he tries. Aisha’s easier to read now that she’s warmed up a bit, but she punched him _really_ hard in the chest the other day when he said Lebanon was boring, and he’s still not sure why. Like Clay said, she’s volatile. 

“He called you a faggot.” 

He shuffles in place, confused. “So? I grew up in the Midwest. I can handle a few slurs.” 

She rolls her shoulders, and it’s the first time he’s seen her even slightly uncomfortable. _Weird_. “You don’t have to handle them around me.” 

“You sound just like Cougar,” Jensen teases, cause he could be mature about this, sure, but he’s himself. “I can take care of myself, anyway.” 

“Sure you can, puppy.” She brushes against him as she walks past.

“I…what? Did you just call me _puppy_?” She waves a hand, ignoring him, so he scurries to the iPad she left behind. Never mind nicknames, what was Aisha watching?

Cat videos. Aisha watches fucking cat videos.


	2. Lebanon

Jensen settles heavily beside her, reeking of sweat. It drips down the bridge of his nose, onto the soaked front of his shirt. She wrinkles her own nose and shifts aside. “You smell.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, then grins. “My natural manly scent. Ladies can’t resist it.” 

She swats his shoulder. “What were you doing?”

“Running in place. I was getting chubby.” 

She eyes the cut of his hipbones, the wide breadth of his shoulders. “Yeah. You’re hideous.” He laughs loud enough that there’s a muffled complaint from Pooch, who’s trying to sleep.

She puts a hand over Jensen’s mouth, his beard scratching. He licks wetly at her palm, such a child, so she digs her nails into his cheek. “Be quiet for Pooch, Jensen.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her, always able to express himself somehow. 

She lets go of his face, briefly cupping his chin. “I hate Lebanon,” he mutters, glaring at the bombed out street they’re sheltered off of. She pinches his thigh hard, because her mother was Lebanese and Aisha still has the cedar tree necklace she used to wear.

He yelps and glowers at her, rubbing at his thigh. Legs spread, all pouty and flushed. “You look like a rent boy,” she tells him, and he pouts even more, turning sad eyes to Cougar as he ducks inside. 

“You hear that, Cougs? She’s insulting my honor.” Cougar raises one eloquent eyebrow, an answer in itself. 

“You have no honor,” Aisha fills in, motioning for Cougar to sit on her other side. He smells, too, of dirt and unwashed male and spices, the last part pricking her attention. Jensen’s, too.

“Do you have food?” he asks, leaning heavily across her lap to peer at Cougar. “Tell me you have food.” 

The corners of Cougar’s mouth quirk up, and his hand curves around Jensen’s neck for just a moment before he nods. Jensen’s crow of delight makes Pooch throw a shoe at them, along with a hail of expletives.   
_____________________________________________  
Cougar settles onto his belly, peering down the barrel of his gun. His baby, Jensen calls it, laughing. Jensen laughs a lot more now, less than he did before Max, but. More. Cougar can see him now, shoulders lifted slightly as he grins at Clay, who’s holding his hand. A pretend-gay op, honestly. Clay has a lot of weird shit in his head.

Cougar can just hear Jensen, “This is my husband, Frank.” Aisha’s laugh is clear over the comms, high-pitched and just a little nasty. He’s always liked it. She’s already inside, painted up pretty and pretending to be an assassin. Well. Aisha doesn’t really have to pretend at being an assassin. 

He lets out a long breath, feeling his muscles loosen. Two deaths and they can go back to base, maybe Cougar will fuck Jensen until he cries. A good night. He peers back down the barrel and waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who's lebanese? i'm lebanese. my grandmother wears the cedar tree necklace all the time. food's great. so i mention it in my stories a lot i think or maybe it's only noticeable to me. anywho filler


	3. Moira

Guard duty with Cougar. Aisha sighs and lets her feet dangle loosely off the edge of the building they’re perched on. Same country, new building. Who’d want to take it from them, she has no idea, but here they are. Her and Cougar.

She scans the horizon, sees bombed out buildings. Lebanon was beautiful once, Aisha’s mother always said. War makes it crumble away. 

Cougar’s in a loose slouch that belies the awareness underneath, his hat tipped low. She’s kind of annoyed at how attractive he is, the setting sun lighting the angles of his face. 

“My mother grew up here.” She can just talk at Cougar, Jensen does it all the time. “She married my father at twenty and left. I might have relatives here still.” She waits long seconds for an answer. “What about yours?”

“Mi familia is dead,” he says flatly, but Aisha’s spent most of her life around stoic men. It doesn’t bother her.

“Jensen is family now. Team is family.” He lisps his j’s, a leftover from growing up speaking Spanish. She’s more pleased than expected to be lumped in as team and family. 

This is the most he’s said in days. Cougar doesn’t like the Middle East, for reasons she understands. No one knows Cougar’s full story, not even Jensen, but something bad happened overseas. Cougar doesn’t have any scars, but there are plenty of things you can do to a man that don’t leave marks. 

She nudges his ankle with her foot. “We can be a good family.”

His sudden, bright smile would fell a lesser woman. “Si. Una buena familia.” Aisha carefully hooks her foot around his calf and settles back. 

 

When Jensen heads for the roof around 2 a.m. to replace Cougar, Aisha is laughing and pushing gently at Cougar’s shoulder. “Okay, first of all, that’s not physically possible,” she tells him, turning to grin sunnily at Jensen. He almost stumbles back.

“Uh, hey, guys. I am _officially_ here to replace Cougs on watch duty.” Cougar gets gracefully to his feet and leaves, clapping Jensen on the shoulder as he walks past. “Night,” Jensen calls after him. 

Aisha’s seated comfortably at the edge of the roof, but Jensen hangs back. He’s been edgy about rooftops ever since he fell off one in Bangladesh. Pooch still chuckles when he talks about it. 

He chooses instead to sit slightly behind and to the left of her. View still clear, less chance of embarrassing fall. “Why’d you take double watch shifts?” he asks the back of her head. “Also, are you gonna push me off the roof if I annoy you?”

“I might,” she says, turning to smolder at him. Her and Cougar both, Jensen’s surrounded by smolderers. It’s kind of unfair. “I took the shift so Pooch could catch Jolene before bed,” she admits fiercely, like he’s gonna judge her for being _nice_. Jensen knows the weirdest people.

“That was cool of you.” 

“Hm.” 

“Anything dangerous out there?”

“No more than usual.” She relaxes, leaning back on her hands. It’s a beautiful night, stars bright, not too hot, and Jensen can smell the ground meat stuff Aisha likes so much. He starts telling her about the migratory habits of butterflies, and she scoots back until they’re sitting side by side. 

Cougar comes out to join them when the sun rises, sits on Jensen’s other side and passes them the soft pastries with pecans and honey that Jensen’s fast become addicted to. Too sugary for breakfast, but Jensen will take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's rewatching arrrooow


	4. Break

Jensen is buried deep in _very important tech stuff_ that is definitely not Tetris when Clay comes up to sit next to him. Jensen scratches the hair on his belly and rolls his neck. Okay. Talk from Clay. The big man. The boss. Jensen’s weird pseudo father figure. Hopefully not here to ask how far Jensen is on the files he recently downloaded. 

“Jensen. Hey,” Clay says, his usual speech opening, so Jensen laces his fingers above his waistband and settles back. It appears a long talk is in motion. 

“Yessir, bossman?” 

“What’s up with you, Cougar, and Aisha?” 

Jensen relaxes, quick tapping at his keyboard cause he’s almost beat his high score. “Yessir. Fraternization, sir. Never goes out of style.” 

“We’re not in the military anymore.” Clay’s still weird about the whole “kicked out of the Army” thing. 

“Well, sir, Cougar is really cool, Aisha is really cool, and together they are…the coolest, I guess.” He cracks his neck and grins. “ _So_ cool.” 

Clay rolls his eyes, lets out the noise that Jensen privately calls the “dad sigh.” “Alright, Jensen. Get back to work.” 

“Yessir.”  
________________________________________  
“So, Cougar. Jensen and Aisha,” Clay begins. Cougar glances up, gives him a long look. His personal life is his own. Clay nods once and stands, patting Cougar on the shoulder. “Okay, then.”  
____________________________________  
“So, Cougar and Jensen,” Clay starts one afternoon, when everyone else is gone and Aisha’s trying to fucking _sleep_. Clay has the worst timing. 

“Yes?” she says finally, blown out on a sigh. They’re in India, and it’s the kind of hot that won’t come off no matter how many cold showers she takes. Even Jensen goes shirtless, his pale white-boy chest glistening with sweat. 

Aisha glares at the paltry excuse for a fan that Pooch bought and waits for Clay to continue. “You’re pretty close with them.” She remembers last night, the three of them huddled in a corner with Cougar’s hand on her knee, Jensen sitting close enough to bump arms despite the heat. She can imagine what Clay is seeing. 

“Yes.” Clay coughs, gravelly, and he really needs to stop smoking when he thinks they can’t see. She’s loathe to admit it, but the team needs Clay. Without him, everything goes to pieces and they’ll never catch Max.

“They’re good men.” 

She thinks of Cougar, who’s killed even more people than she has, and Jensen, who’s at his happiest when he’s fucking up someone’s life online. “I wouldn’t say good.” If they were good, she wouldn’t like them so much.

“Good men,” Clay repeats, his tone broaching no arguments. 

She laces her hands over her stomach and nods. “Okay.”

“I don’t want anything happening to the team,” he says, stops when she snarls, “You’re not my father, Clay.” She’s overheated and they’ve been stuck in this safe house for days, Clay slowly grinding on her nerves. Overbearing, pushy. Anger simmering hot under her skin. She grits her teeth.

He laughs in that arrogant way that always makes her want to punch him. “I sure as hell hope not.” 

“You’d be a shit dad anyway.” Not actually true, if she’s being honest, but she’s pissed and likes the hurt that flashes across his face. A few more comments and the fight escalates, ends with broken furniture. She tosses a final curse at Clay and slams the door on her way out. 

Jensen comes back from the fucking _Taj Mahal_ with Pooch and their safe house looks like a bomb went off. They both pull their guns out, cautious. 

“Clay? Aisha?” he shouts as Pooch takes a tentative step into the room. 

Clay comes out of the kitchen, icepack held to his jaw. “It’s fine, boys. Just a fight with Aisha.”

Jensen holsters his gun and laughs. “She kick your ass again, boss?” Aisha is _vicious_ , she fights no holds barred. Clay frowns, which means _yes_.

Jensen starts helping Pooch fix the furniture, clean up shattered dishes. Aisha will be back later, still volatile but also a little apologetic, offering to help clean up. Everything will go back to normal.

 

“Aisha.” She nearly jumps out of her skin. It’s just Cougar though, coming to crouch near her at the edge of the roof. They both like high places, it’s a safety thing.

“Jesus Christ, Cougar.” She hears heavy footsteps on the stairs. Jensen. He dumps himself behind her, chewing loudly. He hands her a peach, which she passes to Cougar. She hates peaches, and watching Cougar lick sticky juice from his fingers isn’t exactly unpleasant. 

“Clay’s not mad anymore,” Jensen says without preamble, and she turns to look at him. His peach is half gone, dripping down his fingers and chin. _Jesus_. She’s surrounded by temptation. 

“I’m not mad either,” she admits, because she _is_ actually an adult.

“Pooch bought frozen pizza.”

“The good kind, or…” 

“There’s a good kind?” 

“No,” Cougar supplies, tapping his heels against the wall. 

“Come back downstairs with us,” Jensen coaxes, pressing his toes to her hip. She grabs his ankle, rubs her thumb over the bone there.

“Okay.”

She gets to her feet, gives Cougar a hand up, then Jensen. He grins and wraps an arm around her waist. “That’s my girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh i checked and peaches grow in india so there's no like discrepancies here also i started prison break and i'm like annoyingly into it


	5. Scofield

Cougar’s on his knees, slow going down on Jensen. Blowjobs aren’t really his thing, but Jensen is pretty and grabby like this, finally quiet. Cougar stops when he hears footsteps, wipes at his mouth.

“Nice, guys,” comes Aisha’s amused drawl. Jensen’s whimpering in the back of his throat, pushing his hips forward. Cougar soothes him, motions for Aisha to go. She does, with a laugh, so Cougar returns to Jensen. Maybe one day she’ll stay and watch.  
______________________________________________________  
It’s a warm spring day and they’re finally back in the States, which Aisha hates but the rest of the team loves. Aisha likes countries where the police can be paid off and cameras aren’t everywhere, cataloguing. She has too many enemies to be safe here. 

She fists her hands on her knees and glares at the road blurring by. Pooch is driving, like always, a big family van that’s so ugly even Cougar cracked a smile. She turns to him, on her other side. Her, Jensen, and Cougar in the back seat, Clay riding shotgun. Cougar’s staring out the window, eyes slit against the sun. It casts strange angles on his face, washing him out.

When she touches his hand he turns to her, expectant. She doesn’t have anything to say, not really. Comfort would be nice, but she won’t ask out loud. She smiles instead, takes his hand for just a second. His mouth turns up as he squeezes her fingers. 

Jensen is dead to the world, glasses on his lap so he can lean his head against the window. Can’t be comfortable, but the Losers are Army. They’ll sleep anywhere. Pooch is drumming his fingers against the wheel, humming something cheerful. He loves U.S. visits, they always make sure he gets time with Jolene and the baby. Grumpy Pooch is rare enough that it messes the whole team up, so Clay makes sure to keep him pleased.

Cougar can _feel_ how nervous Aisha is, like an itching under his skin. She hates the States, they make her eyes go tight. He wonders what she plans to do when this is all over, if she’ll keep travelling. He knows, if he makes it, that he wants to stick around with her and Jensen. He has no family to go back to, never had any dreams beyond the Army. The Losers are his future now.  
_____________________  
Pooch is with Jolene, Jensen is at his sisters, it’s just her, Clay, and Cougar in one hotel room. She made Clay and Cougar share a bed. They might all be actually going crazy.

Clay’s being sarcastic 24/7 now, with two days left before the rest of the team returns. Cougar has gone totally silent, obsessively cleaning his guns. She’s getting steadily more wound up, snapping nasty things she doesn’t mean. If they could go outside, things would be better, a bit of distance. America is dangerous, though. People are watching.

Clay’s ten minutes away from snapping, ten minutes til a fight with Aisha and another damaged hotel room. Cougar can feel it. Aisha’s sitting on the bed she commandeered, flexing her fingers. Gonna punch someone soon, maybe. Probably not him, she likes his face. She likes most of him, he thinks. He taps her knee and she turns fast, a little vicious.

“Food?” he asks hopefully. Her eyes soften, just a tad, so he stands, sliding his hat back on. He holds the door open for her, a lbit over the top. Always makes her laugh. The hotel they’re in is barely one star, more a motel than anything. Beds are clean, though, and the food’s good. Cougar will forgive a lot for good food. 

Aisha relaxes by degrees the farther they get from Clay. He doesn’t really get it, their constant feud. Team is team. With the Losers, team is family. Fighting just fucks all that up. 

“I’ve never been to Paris,” she says as they pile food onto plates, croissants and the sugary American cereal he misses so much. 

“Paris?” Who hasn’t been to Paris, he’s wondering. He’s been to Paris twice, once solo to kill a man and once with the team, before Max. _BM_ , Jensen has taken to calling that time. 

“Yeah.” She’s fiddling with a slice of melon, other hand absently spinning a knife. He loves the brief flashes of violence that she can’t control, doesn’t even think about. 

“S’nice in Paris.” The people are rude, but the city is beautiful. “We could go.” When Max is dead. Everything happens when Max is dead. 

She flashes him one of those bright, movie star smiles that always take him by surprise. “Yeah? You, me, and Jensen?” He nods his head, taking a spoonful of Captain Crunch. Jensen loves Paris. He got slapped four times, but he loves Paris. The last bit of tension leaves her shoulders as she nudges his toes. “Maybe we can go in the pool later?”  
He makes a face and she grins. “What, too tough to swim?” 

“No bathing suit.” 

“You can swim naked, papi,” she teases, flirting comes so easy to her.

He smiles, tips his hat up. “If you’re lucky.” She cackles, the loud one, and he smirks into his drink.


	6. Spike

Clay drives when they go to pick up Pooch. Aisha dislikes driving and Cougar, despite his perfect eyesight, is terrible at it, sudden stops and muttered Spanish curses. 

About ten minutes in Clay stops trying to make small talk and turns on the radio, thank God, because Aisha just wants to sleep. Long car trips have made her sleepy since she was a child. She dozes off against Cougar’s shoulder, the road rumbling under her.

She wakes up to Pooch dragging Clay out of the car, both of them snorting with laughter. “I am _personally_ offended that you lay hands on her, Clay.” He strokes along the wheel so tenderly that Aisha’s a little uncomfortable. 

Jolene stands by with Baby Pooch on her hip, smirking. “Just get in the car, baby.” 

Pooch turns with a blinding smile to kiss her goodbye. “I love you. I’ll call.” 

She curls her fingers around his bicep and kisses his cheek. “You’d better.” He takes the baby from her, and Aisha looks away. She hates sentimental scenes, and Pooch will probably cry. She’s pretty sure she understands why, but that doesn’t mean she wants to watch, so she gets back in the car with Cougar, who’s looking at his hands. 

He’s been letting his hair grow out, leaving it unbraided when they’re not on missions. It softens his face, which Aisha kind of likes. “I miss Jensen.”

They’re picking him up from his sister’s next. It’s been too quiet without him. Cougar nods. “I liked the pool.”

She remembers teasing Cougar til he threw her in the pool, then followed himself. His laughter was loud and real. “Yeah, me too.” He gives her a sweet smile as Clay and Pooch pile into the car. 

 

Jensen’s sister lives in a trailer park, which Aisha thinks is smart. She doesn’t like putting down roots, either. She’s very pretty, much like Jensen, except she’s also tiny and bleached blonde with a dragonfly tattooed on her neck. 

There’s a shotgun leaning against her hip, but she’s smiling. “Hi! I’m Jen.” She vigorously shakes Aisha’s hand, and she wonders if Jensen ever told Jen about the time Aisha shot him. Hopefully not. It’s a _really_ big shot gun.

Aisha smiles back anyway, because it seems that her fate is to be charmed by the Jensen family. Jen’s daughter peeks out from behind her uncle. Jensen’s beaming at them, wearing jean shorts so ratty it’s a miracle they’re still on him. He’s had a little sun, skin a shade darker. 

“You look good,” Aisha tells him, winking. His blush goes all the way to his ribs. 

“This is Jamie,” he announces, pushing his niece forward. She’s a small copy of her mother, with a gap toothed smile and pink streaks in her hair. 

Aisha smiles, says in Russian, “ _Your family really likes alliteration, eh?_ ” He sticks his tongue out at her.

His goodbyes are shorter than Pooch’s, even though Jamie cries a little. They’re invited into Jen’s trailer, but it’s too small to fit all of them. Each member of the team, even Aisha, is hugged by Jen. She gives an extra hug to Cougar, who smiles warmly down at her, clearly fond.

“We’ll visit soon,” Jensen promises, kissing her cheek. 

“You’d fuckin’ better,” she tells him, pulling Jamie to her hip. Aisha gets in the car feeling wistful for the family she lost, and annoyed at herself for the feeling. 

“Do you have any siblings?” she asks Cougar as he gets in next to her.

“One. She does not speak to me.” 

Aisha puts a hand on his arm, hearing Jamie’s laughter as Jensen swings her around. “I’m sorry.” 

“Team is family.”

Jen waves goodbye as they drive off, turns to shout at the neighbor who’s looking too close. “She’s volatile,” Clay sighs happily, sinking into his seat.

Jensen threatens to empty his bank account if he tries anything, and they all know he’s not really joking. Jensen is also volatile. Clay just laughs.

“We missed you,” Aisha admits about thirty minutes into the drive. Clay is sleeping and Pooch is in car-mode, so they’re not paying attention. 

Cougar nods in agreement, hands over one of the Snickers they bought at a gas station. Everyone on the team but Clay share a love for Snickers and there have been arguments over them before. Jensen’s giving them a wide smile, eyes soft and pleased. It kind of makes Aisha want to bite him, only in a nice way. 

“I can’t even tell you guys what a momentous occasion this is. Honestly, I’m touched.”

“Don’t be a smartass. Eat your candy,” Aisha snaps, but it’s fond and she knows it. He grins at both of them, and takes a bite.  
__________________________________________  
“I do not belong here,” Jensen hisses, leaning close. “I though corn dogs were a delicacy until I was eight!” 

“Still do,” Cougar grunts, frowning unhappily at the other diners. He wasn’t allowed to wear the hat tonight. The team’s at a restaurant, five star, waiting to meet with some big shot gun runner named Rico. 

There are _tablecloths_ and tiny food portions and Jensen is miserable. He huffs and crosses his arms, earning a look from Clay. “Jensen. We need this to go well.”

“Yeah, okay, but when did we become mercenaries?” Pooch asks. “I mean, gun runners? Really?”

“We are _not_ mercenaries,” Clay grits out, practically an invitation for Aisha to make the situation worse. 

“Potato potahto, Clay.” She’s wearing something scoop-necked and glittery, hair twisted into braids. Jensen goes red whenever he looks at her. Clay shoots her a vicious glare and adjusts his bow tie. He looks like a bear stuffed into a suit. Very hairy. Very uncomfortable.

“When’s Rico gonna be here, anyway?” 

Clay settles back into his seat, looking for all the world like the put-upon dad he secretly is. “Soon.” 

Jensen takes a bite of the pâté, feeling like the most pretentious motherfucker who ever lived. Maybe the team can go out for burgers after this. “Is this Rico guy armed? Cause that’s totally unfair.” 

“ _You’re_ armed, Jensen. We’re _all_ armed.” 

He shrugs loosely before laughing. “Yeah, well, I don’t like fair fights.” 

Clay smiles, one of those slow, lazy grins that always make Jensen briefly think about going to his knees. “Relax, Jensen, it’s just a meeting.” 

“Hmmph.”

Later, when Jensen’s had tiramisu that almost made him believe in God, they go to Burger King. Looking a little ridiculous, like kids after prom. Aisha’s already pinned her skirt up over her knees. Jensen can see her thigh holster and it’s kind of making him hard. She winks when she catches his eye. 

Cougar is a warm wall on his other side, Jensen and Clay squeezing him against the window. He’s thoughtful, methodically eating his Big Mac as he gazes into space. He’s usually like this when they get new guns, though, so Jensen’s not particularly worried. Cougar is _very weird_ about his guns. Then again, _Jensen_ is very weird about a lot of things, so he tries not to judge.


	7. England

England, Two Years After Max

Cougar’s angry at Jensen. Aisha isn’t sure why, because she’s not fool enough to ask either of them and Pooch, who’s rapidly, and weirdly, becoming her closest friend, doesn’t know either. She crouches next to him where he’s working on their car, grease coating his hands. 

She risks a glance at Cougar, who’s stone cold and very still. Jensen’s in the other room, totally silent, because that’s his reaction to personal conflict. Pooch exchanges a nervous look with her. “When’s Clay gonna be back?” she asks under her breath. Clay is much better at bashing pissed-off heads together. 

“I dunno. Shouldn’t _you_ be playing peacemaker with your boys?”

“Their problems are their own,” she says, not bothering to deny the ‘your boys’ comment. 

“That’s ice cold,” Pooch says appreciatively, holding his hand out for a wrench. She passes him one, goes back to staring at Cougar. He’s kind of pretty when he’s angry, clenching his jaw. All that stubborn anger. “And also a lie, I know you’re going to go check up on Jensen in a few minutes.” 

She laughs and kicks at what she can see of his legs under the car.

 

She does end up going to Jensen, even if Pooch’s knowing smile is really _annoying_. She flips him off as she steps into one of the rooms branching off the warehouse they’re sheltered in. London. Aisha’s English accent is perfect, but Cougar’s isn’t, so he’s not helpful here. It may be a factor of this argument. 

“Jensen.” 

He looks up from his game with red rimmed eyes. Poor sad puppy. “Yeah?” The desk makes a nice spot to sit on, crossing her legs. Jensen’s slumped and pouty, sprawled out in his chair wearing his baggiest shorts playing video games with people he’s known online for years. It’s weird to her that they’ll never see his face. 

“There’s pie in the fridge. Apple. I thought you might like some?”

Rubbing his beard as he stares at his screen, Jensen rolls his eyes. “You’re trying to cheer me up. I’m not stupid, I have an I.Q. of 170.”

Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “You tried to microwave metal last Thursday, genius.” 

“I was distracted,” he excuses, waving a hand. 

“Jensen.” He finally tears his gaze away from the screen to watch her, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “I’m not your mom, so I’m not telling you what to do. But bad blood on the team is dangerous.” 

He scoffs, “Like you’re one to talk, you and Clay.”

Now _she’s_ annoyed with him, cause Jensen just pokes and pokes until you break. “It’s not the same and you know it,” she murmurs, forcing herself not to snap. 

He glares like a bratty child, then softens. “Fine, you’re right. I am an overreactor of the highest caliber and my shame is deep.” She pats his knee, moves to go until he speaks. “Uh, are you gonna try this with Cougar? Cause that _might_ not go so well.”

“I am known for conquering all obstacles,” she says loftily, smirking when he laughs.

“Grumpy Cougar is a pretty big obstacle, babe.” Usually she kills people who call her babe. Usually. With one last wink at Jensen she leaves the room.

 

Cougar is brutally sharpening the knives he rarely uses when she walks up to him. “No quiero hablar,” he mutters, than shakes his head angrily. “I do not want to talk.”

“That’s cool. You’re going to anyway,” she says, channeling Jensen. He twitches, but he won’t actually hurt her. Cougar’s a gentleman and it’s kind of hilarious. “I don’t own you or anything…” He grins and she pauses, confused. “What?” 

“Nothing. Go on.”

“Like I said, I don’t own you, but this fight needs to be over. Go make up. Go make out.” She winks. 

Unfortunately, Cougar doesn’t blush as easily as Jensen. He just smirks, runs a gentle finger down the blade he’s holding. “Maybe. You should watch.”

She’d love to, but that’s a conversation better saved for later. “Cougar.” 

“Will apologize.” 

“That’s all I ask.”

 

Two hours later, they’ve made up and Jensen's making the most obscene noises Aisha’s ever heard. She crosses her legs tight and looks at Pooch, who’s wincing. “They’re your boys, not mine,” he grumbles, grabbing his earphones. She smiles into her sleeve.  
________________________________________________________  
“We have to stop for water,” Aisha demands, reaching from her seat behind Pooch to grab his shoulders. Cougar peers at her from under his hat, exchanges a look with Jensen. Aisha is _weird_ about water.  
Nobody’s asked why, cause it’s probably trauma related and they all know trauma too well. She always has a water bottle with her. Jensen says it’s the reason her skin is so pretty. “ _So_ pretty,” he had sighed like the lovesick puppy he is. 

“Ten more minutes and we stop,” Pooch promises, glances fondly back at her. Pooch and Aisha have gotten pretty close. Pooch is close with everyone. Aisha smiles brightly and sits back. 

Cougar stares out the window at the countryside blurring by. England. In America, he blends. There are many with Spanish accents. In England, he sticks out. Jensen had said something, just a comment about trying to work on his accent. Cougar feels bad about his reaction, but Aisha had calmed them down and Jensen made such pretty noises after that. 

He smiles to himself, puts a hand on Jensen’s thigh. England has not been so bad.  
____________________________  
“Retail, Clay. Really?” 

“We need that information, Aisha. Honestly, we’re lucky they were hiring.” Hiring Aisha, anyway. Pooch, Cougar, and Clay are too battle scarred, and Jensen’s _way_ too friendly for retail. She smooths down her new, professional skirt and thinks angry thoughts.

It takes her five minutes to download the info they need from the store’s computers, but Clay wants her to finish out her first shift before quitting. “Good work ethic is important,” he says, smirking. God, he drives her insane. 

The woman training her is Muslim, young and plump with a tired smile. “Since it’s your first day, love,” she says, “You’ll just be sat right here taking clothes.” Dressing room. Aisha can work with that.

She lasts an hour, lasts through the five people who dump their inside out clothes on her and stroll past, lasts til a woman lets her child _pee_ in one of the stalls. “You are disgusting!” she snaps, shoving the woman aside and storming out.

The team is grinning as she pulls open the van door and gets in. “That was _awful_.”

“I worked retail through high school,” Jensen remarks. 

“It’s probably why you’re so crazy,” Pooch says under his breath. 

“I take offense to that. Clay is clearly the crazy one for thinking Aisha could work retail. I’m surprised there were no customer induced mass casualties.”

“I got the info,” Aisha protests, punching lightly at Jensen’s ribs.

“At the expense of that store’s good service reputation, I’m sure.” She pinches Jensen this time, hard and on the thigh. He yelps, grabs at her hand. His fingers are warm, gun callouses less prominent than Cougar’s. “Hey! Hands off the merchandise.” 

She scoffs, because Jensen loves being touched, he’s starved for it. “Okay, puppy.”  
________________________  
“My lips are dry. A desert. The Sahara, to be precise. _So_ dry.” Cougar wordlessly hands him a tube of chapstick. Then again, most everything Cougar does is wordless. “Thanks, compadre.” Cougar’s always got his back. Sometimes Cougar puts him _on_ his back, and that’s nice, too.  
They’re in a hotel, where there’s been a tiny disaster, only two rooms booked, only two beds. Jensen’s not sure why it was just assumed that either he or Cougar would be the one to share with Aisha. Cougar lost the coin flip, or won, depending on one’s point of view. Okay, Jensen’s pretty sure Cougar won. Jensen has to share with Pooch and Clay, which promises to be cramped.  
“You enjoy your time with our lady friend, okay?” Cougar gives him an absolutely _filthy_ grin but says nothing.

Aisha has to nudge Cougar aside as she brushes her teeth. He gives as good as he gets, sharp elbow into her ribs, and smiles with foamy teeth. He wears jeans as pajamas, always prepared, and it’s vaguely unfair that he looks this good with toothpaste around his mouth. 

They’ve already moved the bed so it faces the door. “Line of sight,” Cougar had grunted, then he taped guns to three separate places. He’s such an easy man to love.

She finishes before him, slides under the sheets. Even after four years of travel, she still loves hotel beds. They’re both tired enough that sleep will come fast, no need for pills. She hopes Jensen’s enjoying his cuddle puddle with Clay and Pooch. “Come to bed,” she calls, sultry, and hears Cougar laugh in the bathroom.

“M’not easy, mami,” he calls back, warm and amused. She loves playful Cougar. 

“Yes, you are. Come on.” He turns the light off as he walks in, takes off the hat and gently places it on the bedside table. His body under covers brings immediate warmth, which she’s grateful for. England is chilly, swathed with fog. The chill bites deep at her bones.  
“Don’t put your cold feet on me,” she warns, turning to face him. “Jensen’s told me all about that.” 

There’s streetlight coming in through the window, enough that she can see his smile. “Lies.” She’s brave in the dark, reaches over to brush hair off his face. His smile softens, grows sweeter. Already his eyes are closing. “Buenos noches, Aisha.”

“Good night, Cougar.” 

She wakes up once during the night, to pee. She stares blearily down at Cougar, sleep warm and relaxed, grateful that neither of them have had nightmares tonight.

Cougar wakes to Aisha’s head tucked somewhere near his armpit, her hair a cloves scented curtain across his face. The sun has just risen. He carefully puts a hand to her waist, rolls her off him. Early morning cuddles with Aisha sound wonderful, but they’re not in any kind of relationship, yet, and he doesn’t take advantage. It does not matter what he wants. 

They have time before takeoff, except Cougar isn’t used to sleeping in. He blinks at the ceiling for a second before getting up to shower. Aisha murmurs in her sleep, Urdu, and rolls over. He’s momentarily tempted to join her back in bed, but sleep won’t come again. There’s no point. 

He smiles at her, because Aisha makes him want to smile. There is a pool here. Maybe later they can swim again.

Jensen comes in at 0730, when Aisha’s still sleeping. It’s easy for all of them to forget that she doesn’t actually have their military discipline. 

“Morning,” Jensen says, kissing his cheek. Cougar closes his book, smiles. Jensen came here straight from the other room, his hair isn’t even gelled yet. “How was your night with Aisha? Torrid? Tell me it was torrid.” 

He yelps when Aisha, who’s apparently awake, throws a pillow at his head. “He made violent love to me all night,” she murmurs sleepily, turning over. 

“Plane leaves in an hour,” Jensen tells them, settling at the edge of the bed near Aisha. 

She curls her fingers around his wrist. “S’ too early, puppy.” Aisha used to hit them if they came near her bed while she slept. Today, she tugs Jensen til he’s lying next to her, runs a palm up his ribs. “Ten more minutes,” she says into her pillow.

Cougar frowns, because he hates England and wants to be gone. “Cougs. Come join us,” Jensen says, moving aside so he can fit. “Rest your cute sniper ass for a few seconds.” He rolls his eyes but slides in next to Jensen anyway.


	8. Willow

“Look, all I’m saying is that switchblades have style,” Aisha says lazily, one foot dangling over the arm of her chair. How she manages to fit her long body into such cramped positions Jensen will never know. 

They’re in Morocco, Clay’s reward after rainy England. Clay’s got a girl here, an ex-anarchist named Alex who’s taking advantage of their non-extradition laws. She has an eyepatch. Jensen’s a little bit in love with her himself. “Such handsome boys,” she had purred, pinching Jensen’s cheek. 

Then she took Clay and left them at this very nice pool. Free of charge, she promised. Cougar and Aisha seem pretty excited to be here for some reason, goofing off in the water all day, and Jensen would feel left out, but these two never make him feel left out, and isn’t that saying something? 

Cougar’s sheltered himself in the shadow of Aisha’s chair, stripped down to his boxers. Water drips down the lean curve of his spine, pools at the small of his back. _Jeez_.

Smiling up at Aisha, he pushes the hair away from his face, then turns that smile on Jensen. “Ay, papi.” 

“Don’t…don’t _do_ that,” Jensen stutters, kicking lightly at Cougar’s shoulder. “You should be illegal, honestly.” 

Aisha’s watching them like the predator she is, eyes half-lidded. A shiver rolls deliciously up Jensen’s neck. The air’s so humid he could drink it, everything slowed down and sultry. “Come on, Jensen,” Aisha says softly, running a hand under her top, wetting her lips. “Play along.” They’re both watching him now, and Jensen makes an extremely unflattering gulping noise.

“Could you guys get a room?” Pooch groans from his chair next to Jensen. “Or was all that talk about knives foreplay?” 

“I am deeply offended by that,” Jensen protests, splaying his palm over his heart, secretly relieved because he’s pretty sure he was about to be dual jumped and he’s just… not physically prepared to handle that much hot. “My idea of foreplay involves larvae and burlap sacks, as is tradition.”

Pooch makes a face. “There’s something wrong with you. I should’ve joined the Navy and then I’d never have to deal with all this nonsense.” 

“You’d miss us.” Jensen is confident of that, cause he knows just how much he’d miss Pooch.

“I wouldn’t _know_ you.” 

“You’d miss us anyway,” Aisha fills in, crossing her legs. “You’d feel the hole.”

“I could live with it,” Pooch gripes, except he’s grinning. “No more Cougar scaring the shit out of me, no more of Jensen’s white boy nonsense, no more fighting off Clay’s volatile women,” he says like it’s a dream. 

“You love it,” Jensen tells him, and Pooch laughs.

Cougar’s dog lifts it’s head, huffing. Not _his_ dog, his dog, but a stray that he feeds. He calls it Perro, because Cougar is many wonderful things but creative is not one of them. Jensen makes a soothing noise before scratching its head.

“I need new jeans,” Jensen bemoans, picking at a hole in his knee. Cougar turns to look at him, already calculating where the nearest clothes store is.

Clay is off with his woman, will return either beat up or grinning. Possibly both. Cougar squints at the sun, burning hot. Probably both. 

Aisha is napping by the side of the pool, hand dipped in the water. She sleeps a lot, on Jensen or his shoulder, sometimes Pooch’s. Never Clay’s. They all end up sleeping on each other, it’s part of being a team, having the trust to let your guard down. But Aisha has shadows under her eyes. The hunt for Max takes something from all of them.

Cougar dreams of children on fire, Pooch missed Jolene’s pregnancy, Clay carries guilt like a blanket, Jensen blames himself, and they lost Roque. Cougar went through Roque’s things after the Port, torched his clothes. Kept the knives and his dogtags because Roque was evil but he was still family. 

Clay wasn’t able, so Cougar had to. Cougar can handle the ugly stuff. He handled killing Roque, even if sometimes he dreams of Roque’s hands round his neck. Cougar has done worse. Now Aisha is around to share the burden. 

“Aisha,” he says aloud, waiting as she wakes and gets to her knees.

“Hm?” 

Jensen’s on his wavelength, as always, says, “We’re going shopping.”

She makes a face but grabs her sundress, a filmy yellow thing that felt good on Cougar’s fingers when she tossed it at him earlier. “Okay. Let’s go.” They leave Pooch napping in his chair, the store in walking distance, and set off.

Aisha links arms with him as they walk to the store, Cougar’s dog trailing after them. Aisha is smiling, letting the sun warm her face. Jensen can’t believe he used to think she was scary. Well, she still kind of is, but it’s a good scary, like Cougar with a gun in his hands or one of Clay’s plans. 

Warm weather makes her softer, or as soft as Aisha’s gonna get, anyway. She’s eying Cougar’s ass speculatively, whistling under her breath. “We should get him in skinny jeans,” she whispers to Jensen, who nods agreeably. 

“It’ll be a hard fight but a worthy one,” he returns, waiting for the high peal of her laughter, more of a cackle than anything. Cougar slows to walk with them, the slight narrowing of his eyes indicating that he’s suspicious of their whispering. 

Aisha takes his arm, too. “Are you keeping Perro?” 

The dog is panting happily, content to brush alongside Cougar’s legs and sniff at the occasional interesting plant. “We’re giving him to Jen,” Jensen fills in. “Cougar will take him back eventually.” 

When they’re done with Max, he doesn’t say. She nods, understands anyway. Aisha’s good like that. Once, he was the only one who read Cougar right. Now Aisha joins in, and he should be jealous, except all he can feel is grateful to have her. “Nice.”

It ends up being only Cougar who tries on clothes, Aisha and Jensen waiting outside the dressing room to judge him. Jensen’s been the same size since he turned eighteen, he says, gets three pairs of Levi’s that look identical. 

Aisha taps her heel against the chair she’s sitting on, mildly bored. Jensen’s texting his sister on some channel he worked hours to secure, thumbs moving faster than she’d think possible. 

They managed to get Cougar in a size smaller than he usually wears, a compromise. It’s important to compromise. Not attempting to kill Clay every day is a compromise. 

“How long does he usually take?” Jensen shrugs, not noticing her leer at the wide breadth of his shoulders. Pretty boy. 

“My calculations put Cougar changing time at approximately seven minutes, barring emergency and/or his legs being wet.” She raises a quizzical eyebrow. “Wetness makes it hard to get jeans on or off,” he rushes to explain. “Once, Cougs got _stuck_ , but he’ll kill me if I tell that story.”

She’s about to press him for it anyway when Cougar walks out, making a pained expression. They were right, his ass looks _fantastic_ in these jeans. The sales girl is practically salivating. 

“Too tight,” Cougar grunts, tugging at the waistband. Aisha catches a glimpse of smooth brown skin and crosses her legs. 

Jensen’s practically bouncing in his seat next to her. “Oh no. As a matter of fact, those should be tighter.” He glances to Aisha for confirmation, so she nods.

Cougar gives them both a look. “Too tight. I’m changing now.” The thin lines of his mouth have softened, though, and there’s a bit of a swagger to his walk as he goes back in. The sales girl sighs and fans herself. Aisha has to agree.

Perro has waited patiently outside for them, rewarded by the treats Cougar tosses him, and some very enthusiastic head rubs from a passing child. It’s darkening to night as they walk home, both of the guys holding a shopping bag. 

Cougar decided against the tight jeans, though Jensen begged. Cougar tried to be cool about it, but she knows he thinks they’re undignified. Cougar’s facial expressions are easy to read after so long.

When they get to the hotel Jensen turns to her, bag dangling from his fingertips. “We’re going up to bed. Wanna join?” he teases, eyes gleaming. 

“Yes,” she says seriously, because Jensen smells good and Cougar is pressed close behind her, solid like always. She has waited long enough. 

Jensen sputters for a moment before beaming, taking her hand. “Cool. Up we go, then.” Cougar hooks his fingers in her belt loops, chuckling, and the smile on her face grows.  
______________  
Jensen’s curled around her when she wakes up, his bare skin on the border of uncomfortably hot. He makes soft noises in his sleep, pressing his face to the back of her neck. Cougar is gone, the space where he was cold.

She touches the new marks on her neck, thinks of dark eyes and sharp teeth, Jensen-Jake, now-begging for more. Jensen still feels more natural in her head. She nudges him til he stirs, mumbling nonsense. 

“Where’s Cougar?” she asks, idly scratching at the nape of his neck, where she sucked a mark that’s going to last for _days_. 

“Church,” he slurs, rolling so he’s draped over her, face between her breasts. 

“Cougar’s Catholic? But…” She lets her tone of voice imply their relationship and the unlikeliness of Catholic acceptance. 

“He’s not _stupid_ Catholic,” Jensen says, rolling his eyes. 

“Ah,” she grins, strokes up and down the long expanse of his back. Cougar chooses that moment to walk in, smelling of incense. He bows his head in greeting, smile slipping dirty as he eyes them both. 

“Come back to bed, Carlos,” she says, knowing she’s won when he stiffens at the sound of his given name. Jensen’s kissing her chest now, slow and patient, and she grins at the ceiling, more happy than she can ever remember being. Fuck Clay, they’re her boys now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoot whoot made it to 10000 words i am the bomb who is watching buffy and who also has a huge crush on a boy ugh i hate it like i can be sitting in his kitchen drinking juice and i'm happier than i've ever been it sucks


End file.
